Sub Zero
by Taidhe
Summary: Quatre is hearing voices in his head- they lead him to attempted suicide, cliff-hanger ending.


Quatre finished the dishes and rinsed out the sink. He watched the suds slowly melt down the drain, washed away by the faucet, carefully directed so that not even the residue on the sides was left. The water ran through the washcloth he rinsed out, then methodically squeezed dry and folded neatly behind the sink. Quatre rinsed off his hands as well, cupping the water in his palm and letting it flow over his fingers. Impulsively, he rotated the cold faucet, turning the lukewarm water to freezing cold.  
  
*I never noticed before, but the cold water in the summer and the cold water in winter are two completely different things*  
  
He slowly turned his hands, bathing the backs and palms in icy fluid. It numbed his finger tips blue and burned his knuckles red. The bases of his fingers and palm slowly turned translucent white. Quatre cupped his palms once again and drank deeply from them.  
  
*In the summer, the water is just cold. Perfect to drink and refreshing - if you like cold water. Passive and limp, harmless or even beneficial. In the winter... the water is icy and biting, lancing at your teeth, destroying your tongue, burning your throat as you drink, till it settles in your stomach and directs fingers of cold through your bones and your bloodstream.*  
  
Quatre's hands still impeded the stream of frigid water from the faucet. He watched it flow from the tap, fascinated by the way it struck angrily at his hands, fascinated by the slow change of red and blue skin to pale, wrinkled white, fascinated by the continuing flow down the drain and into darkness.  
  
*I wonder...why? Why the change? Doubtless it can be explained by the winter air affecting the metal pipes, which in turn conducts the freezing temperature to the water. So what. It's still .... hypnotic.*  
  
The flow continued, on and on, endless. Quatre watched, entranced. The subtle sound of running water seemed to have a voice hidden inside, speaking to him.  
  
{Go. Go. Run. Run as fast as you can. You know you want to. Go. Just go. Can you follow the water? Can you race it? Can you *beat* it? Can you find where it ends? It's the same as where it begins. Run there. You know where. Ah, but knowing isn't the same as doing. Will you go? *Can* you go? Can you? Can you?}  
  
A detached part of Quatre's mind noted to itself; -The Voice is back again. I wonder how long it will stay this time?-  
  
* Maybe I should go. I *want* to go. Where does the water begin and end? I know. But can I follow it? Will I follow it?*  
  
Subconsciously, Quatre began to imitate the voice, and now it was impossible to tell which was his voice and which was The Voice.  
  
{* Following isn't the same as joining. And that's what I really want. You want to join it. The winter water is so... pure. Perfect. A gift from the sky above, hated by the stars because they can not partake. But you hate the stars. So join it. Join it for spite. Join it for love. Join it for peace.*}  
  
Quatre didn't know when he had stepped away from the sink and left the house. But he found himself outside, in the snow, with no coat and the wind swirling around him. He didn't mind. It chilled his skin in a bizarre imitation of the water he had left running in the kitchen, a dangerous caress on his cheeks, pulling at his arms, dragging him to a destination he already desired.  
  
{What could be purer than a glacier? Tall mountains of prehistoric ice, untouched by the ravages of time and pollution. Glaciers no longer exist here, but they did once. And they carved out lakes untouched by salt during the long winter. Lakes that still exist today. So go. Go now. Down. Always down. The Cold inhabits the depths, the Cold created the depths. Only the Cold dominates the purity you seek. And you can have it too. If you seek. If you go. If you do. If.}  
  
He stood at the base of sandy bluffs, that the water and wind had carved into spires of rock, containing chimneys, hidden crevices, and treacherous trails. The beach was no more than 10 feet of gray stones, rounded and smoothed with wind, water, and time. Cold emanated from them, magnetically drew Quatre down to the crashing, violent waves. Flumes of icy spray were caught by the wind and flung into his face like grains of hail. Where each droplet hit him, a needle of cold was driven into his flesh. The wind only heightened the painful sensation of thousands of spines jabbing deeply through his skin. Quatre grinned maniacally.  
  
At the top of the bluffs, someone with long brown hair observed Quatre. A deer looked up questioningly as he paused in stroking it. Quatre did not see the figure.  
  
{Not enough. You can never do enough. But try. Try harder. Walk into the Cold. It will enfold you. You belong to it. It calls you. Can you hear it? Can you obey? It will get angry...}  
  
*No. Not angry. I can't bear anything to be angry with me. NO. I won't let it. I'll obey, I will. I promise. And it feels so good...*  
  
Slowly, haltingly, step by step, Quatre entered the water. The first full step immersed his ankles in water and instantly numbed his toes. Heartened by the loss of feeling, he continued, up to his knees, up to his thighs. Quatre stumbled now, unable to control his legs, he couldn't even feel them. As wave after wave lapped his groin, a feeling of happiness and completeness overwhelmed him. He stumbled against an unseen rock, fell forward, suddenly up to his chest. The shock hit his lungs and almost stopped his breathing. Quatre paused, contemplating this madness.  
  
{Just one more step. Just one. How much can one step hurt? You can. You will. Do.}  
  
Quatre nodded to himself. He would see this through. Agonizingly, painfully, he inched where his legs should be forward, slowly. He set his foot down carefully into. empty space! He'd reached the end of the shelf! Overbalanced, to cold and numb to retract his feet, up to his neck in water, Quatre sank beneath the frozen waves into perfect, cold bliss.  
  
He did manage to turn about for a last glimpse of sky before his eyes closed for the final time.  
  
And saw perfect blue sky, perfect gray clouds, intricate cliffs reaching fingers to the heavens, and.. a lone, long haired figure diving off the highest summit, into the sub zero water.  
  
Fin. 


End file.
